


The Fanfic That has no Name Because it is Unfinished

by awkwardsloth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, all depends on where I take the story, tags could change in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-06-27 06:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15679719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardsloth/pseuds/awkwardsloth
Summary: no summary for you--it would probably contain spoilers, so no.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this whole post is one hot mess but i will try to fix it as i go along. still in the process of writing it. this is the third story i have ever written so please feel free to let me know where and how i fucked up

They had been inseparable ever since the first day of third grade, when they noticed each other had worn a t-shirt embossed with the batman logo on the chest. Dean had gasped when he caught sight of her, fidgeting with her hair that grew just slightly past her shoulders.

Dean had been nervous; he’d only been back in Lawrence, Kansas for a month after living in Sioux Falls, South Dakota with his younger brother Sam and Uncle Bobby since he was four years old. He was excited at the prospect of him and Sammy getting to be back with their dad, John Winchester….but neither of the boys knew anyone else in town—save for their mother who rested in a Lawrence Cemetery grave plot after a ‘freak accident’ fire. They had gone to live with their uncle in order to give their father time to grieve and repair their house.

All of the other kids in the classroom seemed familiar with one another, already grouped in animated clusters discussing what had transpired over their summer vacations. She was the only other kid who appeared as much a fish out of water as Dean felt. He sprinted over to her and greeted, “Hey, nice shirt. Is Batman your favorite?”

Her eyes had comically widened when the boy with the ridiculous bowl-cut hairstyle abruptly approached her. Her eyes shifted back and forth between him and the h/c hair she had been curling around her index finger—a nervous tick she often busied herself with. “Of heroes, yeah. But Cat woman is my top favorite DC character. Are you new, too? To town, I mean?”

“Yeah—and my fave is Batman. The things I could do with that utility belt! And don’t even get me started on the bat mobile.”

The shy girl asked with a sly smirk, “From which version? Cartoon or live action? 1960’s or modern?”

The apprehension and worry from being an outsider had left Dean, replaced by relief and excitement over finding another kid who had similar interests. As time passed, the pair learned more and more about each other. Dean learned that the girl’s name was Y/N and she had recently moved all the way from (home town). She had two older sisters and a younger brother who was a year younger than Dean’s brother Sam; her mother cared for them all while their father was out of the picture. “Never trust a guy named Randy,” Y/N advised after confiding in Dean about her parents’ divorce. That was her father’s name.

The pair bonded over fictional crime-fighting vigilantes—pretending to spar against one another on the school playground as Batman and Cat woman, their favorite characters. They discussed likes and dislikes, fictional worlds and real life dreams, family and cars. They learned each other had hopes of one day owning a relative’s car: Dean’s father’s 1967 chevy impala and Y/N’s maternal grandfather’s 1968 galaxie. They were each being raised in a single-parent household. They both had a voracious appetite for pie. Through shared experiences and interests they became thick as thieves. If one was teased or bullied at school, the other had their back. If one was away from school, their absence was greatly felt by the other. They regarded one another with respect—well, enough respect that children can have for one another.

In middle school they endeavored to share as many classes with one another as possible, but sadly had to try and be satisfied with having only third period math and fifth period geography together. Y/N had entertained the idea of joining Dean on the wrestling team when try-outs started; she just wanted to spend time with her best friend and ‘learn to kick ass like Batman’ as they had joked with each other. However, she ultimately decided against it, not liking the idea of being the only girl in a room full of gross, sweaty boys. Sure, Dean was a boy, but she was fairly certain that he bathed frequently whereas the rest of her male classmates were a mystery to her.

“I’m gonna say it: middle school sucks,” Y/N declared at lunch during their fourth week of sixth grade. “We barely get to hang anymore.”

“Yeah, with all the classes split up you would think we could at least meet up in the hallways—but this place is built like a friggin’ maze. And what’s with the whole ‘no-recess’ crap?!” responded Dean. “How am I supposed to play with you when all the sports at this school are split into boys and girls? Trick question! I _don’t_. And with wrestling taking up my time after school, it’s not like we can talk before our parents pick us up.”

“Yeah, and there’s so much more homework, too. I swear, I’ll die of boredom before the year is over,” lamented Y/N. Neither of them entertained the idea of spending time with one another outside of school, for good reason. Y/N’s mother was a tad overprotective due in part to all of her relations living all the way back in their family’s hometown. Y/N’s mother only liked her children in three places: school, home, or by her side. She only had her two teenage daughters to watch over the younger children while she was away at work—which was almost all the time. And from what Y/N had told Dean about her sisters, he was rightfully intimidated. They enjoyed teasing and at times out-right bullying Y/N and their younger brother Nathan. Since Nathan was the only boy, he got the worst treatment although Y/N did her damnedest to make sure they weren’t too rough on him. Y/N and her brother had tattled on the older sisters before—but that only seemed to make matters worse.

Of course, there was also the matter of Y/N’s family assuming that her best friend, Dean, was a girl—due in large part to her never specifying his gender and referring to him by a nickname she had bestowed upon him: Buttercup. As in the power puff girl, not the candy. Y/N had taken up calling Dean by this name because—much like the cartoon character—he had green eyes, was a tough fighter, and happened to be one of her favorite people.

So yeah, the vigilante-obsessed pair had an understanding about keeping their friendship confined to school.

As the school year carried on changes came to pass. Dean got a haircut—wrestling coach’s orders. Having a mop of hair wasn’t exactly ideal for a sport where the goal is to grab whatever body part you can in order to lock your opponent into submission—too easy to pull on and put you at a disadvantage. Gone was the bowl-cut that his classmates had once teased him about; now he sported a short cut that was spiked on the top. He no longer was a ‘funny-looking kid.’

That, coupled with his involvement in wrestling, led to him becoming better acquainted with other students. After sparring against and alongside them, Dean became fast-friends with his teammates Benny LaFitte and Garth Fitzgerald. Benny was a great help when it came to perfecting moves and Garth…well, the scrawny little kid couldn’t take a hit to save his life and always lost matches, but his resolve to always keep fighting impressed the hell out of Dean. What struck him as odd at first was the gradual increased attention from other girls at school. They didn’t pay him any mind in elementary but now more and more of them started trying to socialize with him—he swore he heard Anna Milton call him ‘cute’ once while he was walking down the hallway. He had to admit: he liked the attention. It’s a wonder what a slight makeover can do.

Y/N made acquaintances with her peers as well; not spending all her time with her best friend left her feeling quite lonesome. However these relationships felt noncommittal and lackluster at best compared to her bond with Dean. She was hesitant to share as much with others, not trusting them as she did Dean. With his disarming smile and warm personality, the boy had quite the knack for gaining others trust. To Y/N, it felt like there was a wall between her and her classmates. The boys ignored her, preferring to stay in their male-dominated packs—and the girls…well, that varied. Some had already formed their own little cliques—against the notion of letting outsiders’ in. Others either didn’t have enough common interests with her—leaving only room for awkward small talk—or seemed too intimidating to her. So yeah, if she had to make a montage of her middle school experience thus far, it would be to the tune of Three Dog Night’s ‘One is the Loneliest Number.’

As the school year had dragged on, Dean’s popularity grew—which affected the little time they _did_ spend together. Their meetings at lunch would be interrupted by one of his teammates, leaving Y/N’s presence in their conversation to be diminished. She wasn’t a great conversationalist to begin with, preferring to let Dean do most of the talking, interjecting her two cents every so often—and this dynamic had worked fine for them…when it was just the two of them. Now that Dean had a larger audience, Y/N felt like she couldn’t get a word in before someone else added to the dialogue. She struggled to adapt to the new dynamic, resulting in her remaining silent more often than not.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> VERY rough draft that needs more added to it. obviously. i suck

At the start of seventh grade Y/N was swathed in a blanket of anxiety. She had undergone some unpleasant changes over the summer. For starters, she began wearing a bra—which took some getting used to; she had to remind herself every morning to put on the damn uncomfortable wire-laced article of clothing. Those models in the Victoria’s Secret commercials made it look way more fun than it actually was, the liars. She grew an inch or two taller, which was nothing new; everyone does that. One day she only grew hair on her _head_ ; the next thing she knows…well, she was not happy about having to become acquainted with razors. And, of course, God being the asshole that he was decided it was time Y/N become a woman. She was equal parts embarrassed, horrified, and pissed when she discovered the red spots on her panties—mostly because she knew her sisters wouldn’t miss the opportunity to deride her about how she was ‘blossoming into a beautiful, young woman.’ Those _bitches._

And if her awkward metamorphosis hadn’t sent her into anxiety hyper-drive, there was also the matter of her crazy home life possibly being revealed to make her hesitate to enter any new relationships—electing to isolate herself rather than invite the possibility of becoming the school laughing stock or, even worse, suck some unfortunate soul into her family drama. It was best if she kept her head down, avoid forming any attachments. The fiasco that occurred last year is part of the reason she became withdrawn from the one friend she _did_ have. If anyone discovered that her sisters totaled their mother’s car after high-jacking it for a joyride, Y/N would never live down the shame. If that was the only act of teenage rebellion her sisters had enacted, she wouldn’t be in as much of a tizzy as she currently was. Of course, her sisters—being the hell-raising heathens that they were—had managed to find other ways to make a name for themselves.

She had nervously sat through the first three classes of the day and so far had failed to spot anyone even resembling the freckle-faced pop culture junkie. Her surmounting anxiety was not putting her in a good head space—but thankfully since it was only the first day her teachers weren’t exactly demanding her undivided attention just yet. At the start of fourth period she found a seat that had good view of the exit door and waited with bated breath, hoping she would see Dean soon; she could not endure a repeat of last year. Their customary one-on-one talks about home life and comic books had dwindled and been replaced by large group discussions concerning sports and school drama—not exactly her cup of tea.

“Are you okay?”

Y/N jerked her head to her left, finding the origin of the voice to belong to a petite, fair skinned girl of average height for someone her age, with long red hair tied back in a ponytail.

“What?” Y/N asked.


End file.
